


#58 - "What happened? Where am I?"

by Hyde_Writes



Series: Hyde's 102 Writing Prompts #1 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galaxy Garrison, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pretty much just bickering, Short One Shot, kind of fluff, lance has a crush, not really fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:52:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyde_Writes/pseuds/Hyde_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alright, lets show Keith how it’s done!” Lance barreled through the hatch in the simulator and buckled himself into the pilot’s seat. “Ready guys?”<br/>The simulation went perfect, even with Hunk dry heaving in the engineer’s seat and Pidge yelling commands that were recited directly from the flight school handbook.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#58 - "What happened? Where am I?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a series that I'm going attempt to complete. These stories will all be based off a list of 102 writing prompts that I made up and the fandoms/pairings will be based off of follower requests from Tumblr. Most of them will be really short like this one, some will be kinda long, depending on how I feel in the moment. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry this isn't more relationship-ish and fluffy, but I didn't want to go past three pages on this one. (Got lots of other works to finish.) This is #58 that has been claimed for the Klance ship. There was a sort of request to have both Lance and Keith in the Garrison together, so I did that...?

“Good luck, cargo pilot.”

                Yeah right, “good luck.” Lance didn’t believe Keith’s well-wishing in the least. He’d bet all his money that when Keith wished him ‘good luck’, he really meant ‘die and burn in hell.’ What pissed him off more was when the damn black-haired mullet head called him cargo pilot. Like, what the hell was that about? Lance had been bumped up in the flight class when he aced his written test and repealed the decision on his flight test. He was no more a cargo pilot than that douche bag.

                “Yeah, yeah thanks mullet, not that I need it. I bet I can beat your personal record in my sleep.” He cocked his eyebrow and watched with a smirk as Keith’s face squished into a scowl.  

                “What’s wrong with you? I was just trying to wish you luck like a decent human being. The least you can do is stop with the inflated ego enough to thank me without all the boasting.” Keith folded his arms in front of him and his red leather jacket squeaked at the strain.

                “You know what fine. Go out there and suck as bad as you always suck. Jerk.” Keith threw his arms in the air and left the simulation room, pushing past the other cadets as he went.

                “Yeah, whatever man. I don’t need your luck anyway. I got mad skil – Ow! What the hell Pidge?” The shorter boy stood behind him with his hand in the air, primed and ready to smack him across the head again.

                “You finish that sentence; I’ll be forced to strangle you with my belt.”  Pidge pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Now let’s do this damn simulation so I can go study.”

                “Alright, lets show Keith how it’s done!” Lance barreled through the hatch in the simulator and buckled himself into the pilot’s seat. “Ready guys?”

                The simulation went perfect, even with Hunk dry heaving in the engineer’s seat and Pidge yelling commands that were recited directly from the flight school handbook. He even beat Keith’s do-gooder record for a three-person rescue mission by two minutes. That thought alone made Lance buzz with excitement and eager to rub his ten minute; thirty-five second Garrison record in Keith’s face.

                He bound out of the simulator, ready to push past all of the other cadets to find Keith in the compound and boast like he’d never boasted before, but when he stepped out, the sight of a black mullet and dark violet eyes made him pause.  
                “Hey Keith, did you witness my record-breaking greatness or should I retell the story of how I beat not only your record but the Garrison record?” Lance smirked and leaned in, making sure to tower over the shorter guy.

                “What’s your problem, Lance? Why do you try so hard to prove your worth?”

                Keith’s eyes were dark and his face fell into a deep frown. Typical, the guy didn’t like losing and he couldn’t stand being second best. Lance wanted to gloat more, push Keith until his circuits fried, but he couldn’t make his mind form words. He was caught, stuck in the deep pull of Keith’s purple eyes and the subtle smell of spices, citrus and worn leather. With a breath, Lance scowled at the overly attractive guy, hating the way his body reacted to his nearness.

                _Where the hell is this coming from?_ Lance thought angrily to himself.

                He hadn’t ever, like ever, thought that way about Keith. He was such a pain in the ass that Lance always had a hard time ignoring his smug good-at-everything attitude, but it was one thing looking at the guy with distain, it was another to look at him with lusty thoughts on the mind. Lance pushed closer, knocking his forehead against Keith’s, glaring with all his might.

                “Shut up, Keith. You’re just jealous that I beat you.” Their breath mingled together in angry huffs. The minty scent of Keith’s breath made heat rise to Lance’s cheeks and his anger cranked up. “Why don’t you just leave? No one likes you anyway!”

                Keith’s eyes widened and his mouth lost its frown for an instant before it turned into a pinched flat line. “You want me gone? Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you need help again!”

                 He pushed his forehead up against Lance’s harder, forcing their faces impossibly closer together and with another deep closed-eyed breath, he pushed Lance away hard. Lance heard a gasp pull from his lips as his feet stuttered behind him and he backpedaled as fast as he could. It was no use though, he fell back quickly and winced as his head bounced off of the cold diamond plated steel. Pain exploded across his scalp and heat rolled all the way forward to his forehead.

                “Oh ouch!” Lance pushed himself up from the ground, swatting away Keith’s out stretched hand. “You sonofabitch that hurt!” He reveled in the shocked look on Keith’s face as he touched the tender spot on the back of his head. He could feel a headache brewing. Keith stayed silent, but Lance wasn’t done. He wanted to goad him on further; make him feel sorry for what he had done. “Got nothing to say for yourself do you pretty boy?” Still silence.

                “Lance.” Keith’s voice was distant, but echoed across Lance’s mind. He wondered worriedly if he had sustained a concussion from the fall but Keith spoke again. “Lance, man?” Each faded syllable pulsed through Lance’s brain, making his headache worsen.

                “What?” Lance pushed the word out of his chest with all the air in his lungs, but it came out as a whimpering whisper. He looked into Keith’s worried eyes, his look mirroring Keith’s.

                “Lance.” He said it again, but Lance couldn’t be sure if he saw Keith’s mouth move that time. “Lance, buddy wake up.” His voice grew louder as Lance’s vision faded.

                Suddenly bright purple eyes and the intoxicating smell of citrusy spices and worn leather flooded Lance’s senses. The light behind Keith’s dark crop of hair was too bright and it made Lance’s head hurt worse. His mind was foggy and he couldn’t remember where he was. All he knew was that his head hurt and he was lounging warmly in Keith’s strong hold.

                “Welcome back. You scared us there for a second.” Keith’s hand squeezed around his own, comfortingly and Lance wondered how long Keith had been holding him like that.

                “Huh, what happened? Where am I?” Lance’s voice was shaky, but it was easier to speak than when he tried just a few seconds before.

                “Hey, stay down.” Keith’s hand gripped onto his shoulder, squashing any attempt he was making at standing up.

                “Why? Keith, what happened?” Ignoring the blinding bright lights, Lance peeked around Keith’s arm and realized they were in the infirmary. The room was empty except for the long row of beds and curtain rods that stretched across the room.

                With a sigh, Keith adjusted, pulling Lance further into his hold and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. His hold felt warm and comforting, so Lance leaned into his chest, resting his forehead against the base of Keith’s warm neck. He sighed contentedly, ignoring his throbbing headache.

                “You’re in the infirmary.” Lance nodded, silently acknowledging that he knew where he was. “You, uh, crashed the simulator and --” Keith tensed under Lance’s frame. “you hit your head really hard.”

                _Yeah, that sounds about right._ He knew he should argue and deny what Keith had said, but he couldn’t bring himself raise his voice above a whisper.

                Lance pulled his hand from Keith’s and touched the back of his head tenderly. There was a bandage wrapped around his head, but underneath the flesh was sore and sensitive. Looking up, he saw Keith’s eyes shining with something that he couldn’t place. Somewhere in the back of his head he thought _tenderness_ but pushed the absurd idea away.  “How did I get to the infirmary?”

                “Hunk carried you,” He smirked and looked away to chuckle.

                “What?” Lance stared at the side of his face harder as if it would make Keith look back.

                “He carried you bridal style all the way here. You make such a pretty damsel in distress.” Keith covered his mouth and snickered.

                “Oh shut up! You’re really going to make fun of me after I woke up from a coma?” Lance held a hand to his throbbing head, regretting the fact that he yelled.

                “Coma? More like after you knocked yourself out, princess cargo pilot.”

                “Let me go, mullet. I’m going back to the simulator to beat your record you ass!” Lance pushed against Keith’s chest and attempted to pull himself out of the bed. Ignoring a dizzy spell, he continued trying to pull himself out of bed.

                “Come on, Lance stop. I was just joking.” Keith grasped at Lance as he pushed away and started walking out of the room with unsteady, angry steps. He suppressed his laughter, watching Lance make his way down the long row of beds. “Lance, buddy. I was joking. Come back. We had a bonding moment! I cradled you in my arms!”

                When Lance slammed the door, Keith laughed until he couldn’t breathe.  


End file.
